


It's not right, but it's okay.

by orphan_account



Category: Loveless
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Crime-scene Clean-up, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things aren't ever really right between them, but Soubi still answers the phone and that's good enough for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not right, but it's okay.

“Hey, the rest of the team is done. We’re free to go wh-”

Ritsuka rounds the corner of the hallway into the living room, eyes settling on Soubi, squatted a friendly distance away from the sludge of gore puddling in the center of the room. Looking at him—miserable and exhausted— reminds Ritsuka of the time he’d found a dog dead outside his house and called Soubi over to shovel the remains into the dumpster for him. Just like then, the front his shirt is sopped with blood. The same quirk of a cigarette out the corner of his mouth. Like he’d need a long shower and a few years of sleep before he could possibly feel any better.

“Jesus Christ, that’s disgusting. Get up, idiot,” Ritsuka steps around the ruddy puddle of carpeting, deliberately not looking down. “How do you even get this dirty? Did you even bother suiting up earlier?”

Soubi’s small tilt of the head and avoidance of eye contact says enough.

“I was already late. Had to finish some schoolwork,” Soubi’s voice comes out rough and sluggish. He looks down at the sodden knees of his jeans then down further to the light-blue booties covering his shoes. “I have the booties on, at least. Rest should wash out.”

Ritsuka doesn’t ask why Soubi was doing schoolwork before 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning. He figures that’s probably not what Soubi was doing anyways. Ritsuka’s been out here since he was called in around midnight himself, and before that had finally gotten his mother to bed after a long, tense day of skirting around her at home. He should berate Soubi for smoking inside of the scene, but honestly the house reeked of cigarettes when he’d gotten there, so Ritsuka doubts anyone would notice. He wouldn’t feel okay berating Soubi when he looks like this.

“The CSI team is packing up and heading home now. We should be leaving too.”

At that, Soubi pushes himself into a standing position and quietly follows Ritsuka out the front door to Soubi’s car. It’s thoroughly beat-up and looks somewhat lived in. Ritsuka wonders if maybe Soubi had lived in his car at one point. He tries not to think about it, can’t bring himself to ask anyways. Ritsuka digs through his little messenger bag for his keys, unlocking the car before climbing into the back seat to grab a towel. He calls out behind him without looking.

"Stay  there .”

“Yes, master.”

Ritsuka can hear the grin in his tone. It makes his chest throb and throat tighten. He can’t think of the last time he’s sure Soubi slept—and between school, always being on clean-up call, and seeing Ritsuka, it’s most likely been more than a couple of days. He doesn’t know how Soubi can handle it, until he sees him like he is now— like if he blinks too slowly Soubi might not be there when he opens his eyes. Ritsuka jumps into this routine of taking care of Soubi. It’s the only way he knows how to handle things. Follow the steps, fix what you can, comfort what you can’t, rinse, repeat. Ritsuka knows it’s probably not the healthiest way of dealing with all of this- of dealing with Soubi looking like the portrait of death, face placid and empty and hair tied up, only showing more of his gaunt cheekbones. His lips are chapped white, and his hands are stained a blotchy brown from drying blood. Soubi scares him like this, when he’s not really  there.  Soubi looks so far away that Ritsuka has a sudden rush of child-like panic that maybe he’s forgotten about Ritsuka, can’t even see him, doesn’t even remember him.

Pushing that train of thought away, Ritsuka turns back around after laying a towel on the driver’s seat and digs into his bag for disinfecting wipes he keeps on the job. He holds out a hand and Soubi steps forward, slinks into a crouch between Ritsuka’s knees. He holds his hands out with his wrists together, like he’s playing a bad game of cops and robbers.

“Are you okay enough to drive us home?” Ritsuka is holding Soubi by his left forearm, pulling out one of the wipes with his free hand and attempting to rub off the dried blood in the creases of Soubi’s knuckles. Soubi’s hands are as pale and gaunt as the rest of him.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to.”

He takes a final drag, brings his free hand up to take the remaining butt of his cigarette and flick it in the sidewalk gutter. He turns his head to blow the smoke away from Ritsuka’s face, looking a bit more present. He looks back towards Ritsuka who’s deemed Soubi’s left hand clean enough and moves to take his right wrist. He strokes his thumb over the bone there.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Ritsuka shrugs, “Don’t bother. Mom had a bad day yesterday. I don’t want to risk waking her up this early.”

Soubi makes a noise of vague agreement and closes his eyes as Ritsuka finishes cleaning his right hand. Dropping the wipes into a trash bag on the floor of the car, he takes Soubi’s hands in his.

“We should get going,” Ritsuka whispers.

He doesn’t understand why, but this moment feels fragile. Soubi seems unperturbed by whatever mood is between them. He stands up to peel his booties off, briskly walks to the biohazard trash containers up on the porch of the house. He starts the car and turns the faint radio station up enough to offer background noise. As he moves the car into drive and starts towards his flat, the sudden fragility is still there. Ritsuka wishes he could pull himself into Soubi’s lap— something he hadn’t been able to do since he outgrew Soubi two years ago, when he’d just turned seventeen— to  curl into his chest and make him laugh and feel his warmth and validate that: Yes, Soubi is here with me. Yes, Soubi is okay. Yes, Soubi alive and his heart is beating and I can feel his pulse and things are going to be okay.

But it’s been a long week for the both of them. Ritsuka jerks back into reality when Soubi leans back in his seat and twists his torso towards him. Soubi glances at Ritsuka, then back to the road. He still looks sickly and tired but not entirely as distant anymore.

“Should we just start breakfast when we get back? It’s already...,” He pulls out his phone and starts it up. “It’s a bit past 6….I’ll start coffee while you shower, and then you can finish the rest.”

Soubi looks a bit disgruntled, “Aren’t you going to go to sleep? You look tired… I’ve been worried about you.”

“Aren’t  you  going to sleep? I’ll be okay. I can nap later. When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

Soubi hums out a playful laugh, “I slept last night.”

“Liar.”

But it’s okay that Soubi’s a liar because he’s knows it as well as Ritsuka does but he still has that playful smile on his face, like it’s okay he hasn’t slept over four consecutive hours any night this week. Or it’s okay that he has blood smeared down his t-shirt and turning dry and stiff on his jeans. Or that he looks thinner than Ritsuka’s ever seen him in the last five years. It’s okay because he’s smiling and he’s still with Ritsuka and he’s still talking, even if it’s mostly lies at this point. That’s okay too.

**Author's Note:**

> aged-up loveless crime-scene clean-up and college au.   
> more to come.  
> thanks.


End file.
